


long distance

by MusicalLuna, ooka



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 09:53:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14734731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicalLuna/pseuds/MusicalLuna, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ooka/pseuds/ooka
Summary: “Of course you needed help,” Tony replies when he asks him in the middle of a tiny village in the middle of Russia.  They are about to hike out to a rumored facility where they held Bucky once. “And it’s like you don’t know what google alerts are.”“I don’t know what google alerts are,” Steve returns flatly.(Steve post CA:TWS, trying to find Bucky and Tony trying to help)





	long distance

**Author's Note:**

> Post Captain America: The Winter Solider - non canon compliant after that.

Steve’s phone starts ringing after two days in the hospital.  He has to sheepishly wince as a woman double his age (and _doesn’t remember the same things you do Steve_ , he has to remember himself every time he opens his mouth to make small talk) glares at him.  She melts pretty easily, and Sam’s covering his mouth when Steve looks at him out of the corner of his eye.

He narrows his eyes, and Sam’s shoulders start shaking as he tries to suppress his laughter.  But by that time, the phone is about to stop ringing and hit voicemail, so he just answers with a terse, “This is Steve.”

“You didn’t even check caller id, did you?” a lazy drawl comes through the phone, and Steve starts a little.  “I know you’re still catching up old man, but come on, I thought Clint got that one drilled into your head before he headed off to the middle of nowhere for his SHIELD maybe HYDRA mission.”

“Tony,” he hisses.  “This is an unsecured line.”  Well it was secure, before - but with everyone scattered to the four corners or dead - there probably isn’t anyone to secure it any more.

Tony laughs.  “JARVIS has that covered.”  A soft, almost fond, _hello captain_ floats under Tony’s rambling, and sometimes the future hurts to understand, so he just gives up questioning how things work for Tony.  He just knows they always have. It’s nice to have that constant in the continuously changing future. “I wanted to check in. See how you were.”

“I should have called you,” Steve says.  He doesn’t follow it up with, _This is the first day I feel comfortable enough to brave having my phone turned on._

“It’s okay Spangles,” Tony replies, clear and like he’s right there.  Steve half expects his hand on Steve’s shoulder, even though they aren’t friends like that.  “I don’t expect to be anywhere near your first five calls when it comes to something like this.”  Steve starts to say something, but Tony continues with, “I’ve trawled, sorry had _JARVIS_ go through the most of the data Natasha released to the public.  I tried to pull back the too salacious things that you wouldn’t want out, but your phone number got out.  JARVIS is adding a little routine to make sure the caller isn’t some reporter or source you don’t already have in your phone.  Just some extra caller protection. So, at least check caller id from here on out, Cap.”

Steve doesn’t know what to say, so he replies with a cautious, “Oh”.

Tony laughs, easy in a way Steve envies.  “Don’t worry. Your good looking friend sitting next to you reading the history of cod can explain it to you.  Also, I’ve taken care of the hospital bill since I’m pretty sure you don’t have any health coverage since SHIELD turned evil and got destroyed.  Meant I had to temporarily hire you as part of my security team, but whatever works, right?”

He’s still stuck on the first part, “You can see me?”

Tony chuckles again.  “Left hand side, upper right, security camera.  I’ve never met a security I can’t hack if I think about it long enough.  Like I said, just wanted to check in.”

“Thanks, I think,” Steve says, still thrown by the barrage of words.  “How are you?”

“Peachy,” Tony replies, before there is some commotion in the background.  “I’ve got to run - JARVIS added himself and me in your phone as contacts. Just tell JARVIS if you need anything.  I’m working weird hours these days, so I can probably respond if you need some funds or weapons, but JARVIS would be your best bet.”  He pauses before adding, “Give me a heads up before you become another headline and I have to hack a hospital to figure out if your are alive or dead.”

“Can do,” he replies before Tony hangs up.

He pulls the phone down from his ear and sees the text that reads, _To reiterate what sir said, I can help out with any logistics when it comes to chasing down the soldier you were fighting._

 _How?_ He types out quickly, ignoring the squeaks from Sam about, “Was that _Tony Stark_?”

The **…** bubble shows for a long moment before a reply appears.  He doesn’t know it until after he reads the text, but Steve has been holding his breath the entire time.   _I’m tapped into a satellite system and have backdoor access into multiple government agencies systems, so I’ve become very adept at tracking people in the past few weeks._

 _Is that legal?_ Steve asks, because Tony is a private individual and JARVIS was not part of any search.  He was part of Tony’s private, non contractual work that SI didn’t own and his own attorneys had patented within an inch in so many various ways that no one could understand how he had actually done it, per Natasha one frustrated afternoon of attempting to decipher the paperwork.

And he’s still not caught up, but he can understand the phrase backdoor sounds a little more like a white lie he would tell General Phillips before he and the commandos would roll out on little to no intel and on a hunch and a half.  

 _It would be better for you not to ask_ , Jarvis replied.   _Would you like me to start the search?_

Steve sits there, staring at that text for a long time before replying with, _please_.

 

(Later, he finds newspapers Natasha leaves him in the hospital room.  Headlines like _Stark missing - presumed dead_ in numerous variations are splashed across the pages in bold black font.  

They chronicle the entire saga in salacious details, ending with Pepper Potts in the hospital - stay indefinite and Tony stepping back into the CEO position temporarily.  His face is grim, lined in a way that Steve isn’t familiar with.

It makes him look more like the Howard he used to see on the walls of SHIELD.  Steve isn’t sure how he feels about that.)

 

 

JARVIS send him a text 72 hours later with a picture an a question.  It’s a pixelated image of a man hunched over, a hood pulled over his head.  But his head is turned just so, and it may have been years - decades - since they have stood in the same space and known each other, but Steve knows Bucky’s cheekbones, the line of his nose, even the familiar bags under those distant eyes.

 _Where?_ He asks JARVIS.   _How long ago?_

 _So you confirm that is James Barnes_? JARVIS instantly replies.

Steve sends back a frustrated _yes_ as quickly as possible, fighting the urge to grab his drop bag and take off running.  It’s hard sitting here with no leads, no ideas, but knowing Bucky is out there - lost.  He used to know Bucky well enough that he could find him after a fight in less than 30 minutes.  He used to be able to read the room quick enough to know exactly how Bucky was feeling when they used to walk to school.  

He used to know a lot of things.  Ever since he’s woken up in the future, Steve feels like he knows less and less.

 _It’s from 3 days ago,_ JARVIS responds with _.  Now that we have a recent picture outside of the Winter Soldier gear, the algorithm will go faster._

There is a moment before another bubble pops up, _We’ll get your boy home Captain.  Don’t worry._

Steve doesn’t know what to do with that.  Instead, he puts the phone down and starts working on finishing up his discharge paperwork.

“What’s up Cap?” Tony says after one ring.  Steve takes a second before responding, he honestly wasn’t expecting Tony to pick up that fast.  

“Uh,” he starts, before shaking his head as he pushes his baseball cap low as he works through the crowd.  “I was told to contact you about information?”

Tony laughs like the world isn’t falling apart around them.  A carefree sound that Steve can only remember before the war, before his mother died, in stuttering images of his pre-serum memory.  Like they are images put together in a projector, missing moments between each picture. “You sound like a spy in an old film,” he teases.

“I’m out and about,” Steve hints, hoping Tony will pick up the rest of his sentence, _so I can’t talk freely._

He pushes past a mother laughing with her child, careful not to jostle their load as he looks up at the leaving flights.  

Tony chuckles, “You can just call him Jay and no one will think the wiser.  Jeeze, it’s like Nat didn’t put you through the ‘act like a normal guy’ wringer when you went to work for SHIELD.”

“How do you even know about that?” Steve asks, ducking his head again when a child tries to peer under the hat.  

He can practically hear the shrug across the line.  “Pepper and Nat text,” he offers. “What did you call me about?”

“Jay told me you had some information on a friend of mine?  I’m looking for him,” Steve says, and hopes he doesn’t sound too desperate.  The SHIELD issued phone creaks precariously in his hand.

Tony hums before replying, “Yeah I just finished a write up with Jay.  Come by the compound, and we’ll get you all the gear you need.”

“Compound?” Steve echoes.  “What compound?”

“God, Natasha just keeps all the secrets and doesn’t share anything,” Tony huffs.  “Long story short, we’ve got a training facility outside New York. You’re in DC right?”

"Yeah,” Steve replies, peering around for any easy to spot cameras.  There is one under the United sign. “Cameras again?”

“Nah, just had J hack your GPS.  It’s easier than you think.” There is some distracted tapping in the background, like texting.  Steve had gotten use to the clatter of thumbs on glass after all the times he spent wandering around DC.  “Okay there should be a man in a suit coming to your left - _now_ I’ve hacked the cameras - he’s going to take you to a waiting area, and when my plane lands, you’re going to get on it.  It’ll take you to the compound. It’ll be about 45 minutes since I have to have the plane reroute. Anyone else you want to drag along on this expedition?”

“Uh,” Steve stutters.  “Sam said he had some loose ends to tie up before he headed out, but to call him when I get information.”

“Give him J’s number,” Tony advises.  “That way I can coordinate a flight out as soon as you are ready.”

Steve pauses, a man in a  well tailored suit heading is way, “Tony are you sure about all of this?  You don’t have to.”

Tony chuckles again, “I’m just helping to coordinate.  Once I get a secretary or five, they will handle this sort of information.  Don’t worry about it.”

“Mr. Rogers?” the man asks, finally reaching him.

Steve is about to say, _sorry Tony I have to go, I think_ when Tony says, “Seriously, don’t worry and feel free to eat whatever you need.  They owe me for the disaster with the sushi back in 2003. You eating all their food would make us even and they have been trying to even for _years._ And don’t eat the sushi!”  And hangs up.

“Yes?” Steve replies before hitching his bag higher on his shoulder.

The man smiles and says, “Right with me sir.”

Steve follows.

 

 

Clint’s in the plane when Steve walks up to it on the tarmac.  He does a double take to Clint’s wide grin with his giant earphones around his neck.  “I thought you were on a mission.”

“Was,” Clint shrugs bonelessly, and sometimes Steve wonders about his story.  How Clint came to be here, but he isn’t someone to be noisy like that. “Now I’m one of Tony Stark’s drivers.”

Steve looks him up and down, and Clint looks casual, jeans and a t-shirt and boots.  Like he’s finally taken a breath in after the Loki disaster. This is the Clint he’s heard mentions of in Natasha’s stories.  The one who is a “walking human disaster” and if he takes a shower, it’s “because he’s been covered in blood or bullied into it”.  “Oh hell,” Clint slumps. “What stories has Nat been telling you? I swear they are only half true.”

Steve keeps staring, and the moment drags between them before Clint slumps even further, like a man defeated.  “Okay, maybe all true,” Clint amends. “But I’m decent at flying thing, and it’s in my contract to not eat dumpster pizza.”

He gets in the chair against his best judgement, remembering Natasha’s fond smile when she said, _he’s one of my favorite people_ .  Because Natasha rarely looked like that, and it was the same look in her eye when she had turned to Steve, right before she turned on the emulator and said, _I like this one_ about Sam.

He’s learned to trust Natasha’s taste in people.  And if Tony is vouching for him, well Steve is learning to trust Tony too.

“Tony’s Technical Support, how may I direct your call today?” Tony opens up with when Steve calls him a few hours later.

It startles a laugh out of Steve from where he stands in the kitchen looking out onto the sea of trees with New York City in the distance, lighting up the night’s sky.  “Hey where are you? I wanted to thank you for your help, but I get lost in this place. Care to use the cameras to help direct me to you?”

“Sorry,” Tony says, and it sounds like he means it.  Steve’s just starting to learn what his tones mean, “I’m stuck downtown.  You find everything you need?”

“Including the new suit, thanks for that by the way, I hadn’t even thought about the fact I needed a new one.”  Steve returns and takes a few steps into the dining area. He lets his free hand clutch onto the back of the chair and tentatively tightens his grip.  It doesn’t creak ominous, and Steve has to smile at that. That’s something Tony had to take into account for this compound - his and Hulk’s increased strength.  

He smiles a little at the thought.

“According to your medical report, it seemed a little holey,” Tony replies, absently.  There is a clatter in the background, and Steve hears him lowly cursing, muttering at JARVIS before readjusting the phone, and the sound of static-y harsh breathing comes across the line.

“You went through my medical records?”  Steve asks, curious.

“Ish.  Kind of.  I got your doctor bills, it’s about the same thing,” Tony offers up sheepishly.

Steve pauses.  “Oh, how much do I owe you?”

“It’s on the avengers account, seriously don’t worry about it,” Tony brushes away.  There is another noise in the background, and he can hear Tony distantly muttering something about dummy’s and fire extinguishers.

“I think I should -” Steve starts before Tony comes back on the line.  

“The amount of shirts the merchandising side of the nonprofit has sold with the outline of your shield and helmet covers it,”  There is a pause and the shutting of doors. “Like I said, don’t worry about it. How do you like your new gear?”

“It’s good, great even,” Steve replies.  “But the info on the tablet. This is more than enough to start tracking down Bucky.”

“Good,” Tony says.  “Now there is an account and credit card there in an envelope, and before you even open your mouth and say, ‘Tony I can’t’, it’s an advance on your current salary.  Also there is a folder on that tablet with some papers I need you to sign. We’ll back date it, so everything looks legal with the IRS when they eventually come knocking.  Let me know if you need anything else, but I think we should be good to go at this point.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Steve utters quietly.  “But thank you.”

“I kind of do,” Tony returns.  “I promised that I privatized national security.  Global security problems makes it look like I am a liar.”  He pauses before adding, “Don’t die out there Captain. That’s an order.”

“Can do Tony,” Steve responds just before the click of the line.  

Clint bounds in a few seconds later with a bag over his shoulder.  “You ready to go?”

Steve stills for a moment, and Clint can read the confusion in his face.  “God, when will Tony actually explain everything instead of bits and pieces?  Okay Cap, you’re stuck with me. We’re partners in crime for this hunt. Nat’ll probably stumble across us.  She usually does something like that with me when she has wandering missions. We get to use the jet. It’s part of the private security branch of SI.  Oh and Maria Hill is basically our chain of command for this sort of stuff. We’ll brief her in every once in a while, probably more because she has _feelings_ about this sort of mission.”

“I think this is the most words I have every heard you say,” Steve replies, a little wide eyed at everything.  It’s like mini SHIELD, and the more he thinks about it, that’s probably what Tony did. Scooped up the ones he knew was good and put all of this together inside SI so he could control it.

Clint shrugs, face twisting a little bit.  “I save my words for people who will listen to them.”

“So not Nat?” Steve asks, trying to ease the sudden tension between them.

Clint grins.  “She listens. She just doesn’t like to acknowledge them.  I think it low key annoys her, so of course I talk too much around her.”  He makes a face. “Probably uses it all to put together some psychological profile in her head about me.  Or social engineering experiments to hack my accounts. She’s evil like that.” He shrugs again, “Whatever, let’s head out.  Home base here is creepy without anyone really occupying it here.”

Steve smirks, “Can we pick up someone else?”

Clint goes, “Whatever you want to do.  This is your mission. I’m just along for the ride and sweet paycheck to make sure you don’t try to die again

 

 

_Eight weeks ago..._

from _JARVIS_

Captain there has been a sighting of Barnes in DC again.

 

from _Steve_

You can all me Steve, JARVIS, that’s perfectly fine.

 

from _JARVIS_

Alright Steve

 

_Seven weeks ago…_

from _JARVIS_

There is another sighting in Belgium.  We’re working on the details.

 

from _Steve_

On it, thanks JARVIS

 

from _JARVIS_

anytime

 

_Six weeks ago..._

from _JARVIS_

There has been multiple sources of confirmation of Barnes in Paris.  I’ll send Barton the coordinates and details to your tablet.

 

from _Steve_

Thanks JARVIS.  How is everything over there

 

from _JARVIS_

Good.  Sir is working on some SI initiatives.

 

from _Steve_

And Miss Potts?

 

from _JARVIS_

She is still recovering.

 

from _Steve_

You’ll let me know if Tony needs anything?

 

from _JARVIS_

Yes Captain.

 

from _Steve_

Steve JARVIS, I know you remember that.  

 

from _JARVIS_

Yes Steve

 

_Five weeks ago…_

from _JARVIS_

Looks like there has been a sighting in the Ardenness

 

from _Steve_

Is there a pattern here I’m not seeing.

 

from _JARVIS_

It looks like he may be retracing his steps

 

from _Steve_

Could he be remembering?

 

from _JARVIS_

Potentially.

 

_Four weeks ago…_

from _Steve_

You have to have some theories.

 

from _JARVIS_

I am an AI.  I do not have theories.

 

from _Steve_

I know about the scientific method. Even you would follow that.

 

from _JARVIS_

They would be called hypothesis’.

 

from _Steve_

What’s your hypothesis?

 

from _JARVIS_

Barnes’ memories were being wiped according to all the documents Natasha leaked, right?  You triggered some of his World War 2 memories. He is either following some research or memories and going to different battles in order to figure out who he was.

 

from _Steve_

You think he is remembering?

 

from _JARVIS_

He saved you.  He said something to you.  I believe it was, “Sorry Steve” before he wandered off.

 

from _Steve_

Really?

 

from _JARVIS_

The video is on your tablet

 

from _JARVIS_

Are you okay?

 

from _Steve_

Yeah.  Thanks for the video.

 

_Three weeks ago…_

from _JARVIS_

That was a close call

 

from _Steve_

Yeah, but we’re fine.

 

from _JARVIS_

You need anything?

 

from _Steve_

We’re good, really.

 

from _JARVIS_

You should probably call sir, he is concerned.

 

_Two weeks ago…_

from _Steve_

Have you had any sightings?

 

from _JARVIS_

No.  But we’re still looking.

 

from _Steve_

Thank you for all your help

 

from _JARVIS_

We’re not done yet Steve.  Hold out hope.

 

_One week ago…_

from _JARVIS_

Head over to Germany.  We have some twitter intel

 

from _Steve_

We’re trusting twitter?

 

from _JARVIS_

We’re trusting this twitter user because we don’t have any other leads right now.

 

 

Nat finds them in Germany months down the line.  She slides into the seat beside Clint of the pub they are trying to keep a low profile in.  She’s in dark jeans, boots, and a motorcycle jacket. He hair is darker now, nearly the same color as her jacket.  “You’re not blending in as well as you probably think you are,” she says.

Clint rolls his eyes, “You always say that.”

She looks at him, “God your beard is awful; why are you trying that?”   Her nose is barely scrunched up, and Steve’s just grateful she never made that expression at him.  He thinks it ranks him just a step above Clint.

Not that he’s counting or anything.  

It’s been three months, and they have been quietly trying to make their way through Europe, following the photo sighting that are getting sparser to find from JARVIS.  They left the jet back in France, backpacking or using Clint’s skills at picking up cars (Steve has stopped asking where he got the keys and careful not to look at the wires under the dash).  

(He procured a vehicle once, and Sam still hasn’t shut up about it six weeks later.)

“What are you doing here?” he asks, studying Natasha.  She looks tired to be honest, but he knows he has bags under his eyes too.  He spends most nights imaging what happened to Bucky those years he was under the ice to get him to the man he saw in DC.  This isn’t the one he grew up. He’s completely different, and the more Steve thinks about it, the less he knows what to do about that.

He’ll figure it out after.  

He always figures it out.

“Talked to Tony, he wanted to make sure the two of you were okay,” she shrugs.  “I just got back from New York.” She watches him for a moment, and Steve doesn’t want to know what she reads into his face.  “You look better with the beard than this one,” is all she adds, rolling a shoulder at Clint.

She tilts her head, inspecting the room, and Steve leans back and takes a moment to mock outrage as he follows her gaze to the right.  The barkeep just finishes searching for something under the bar, a disgruntled look as he straightens and puts up one finger to the customer at the bar before heading to the back.

He meets her eyes and raises his eyebrows before her lips quirk.  Then he straightens and puts a hand against the hair on his cheek.  “Thanks. I _think_.”  She grins in response.  

“Also you’re about to need some back up in the fight that is about to break out,” she adds lowly to Clint.  

“What do you mean?” Clint says just before she ducks and slides down right when a bar stool breaks behind her where her head was a second ago.  He ducks too before slinking under the table.

Steve hears a soft, “That was a shit warning Nat,” and her even softer laughter as he slides out of the booth.  There is a single guy, built in dark colors coming rushing him. He’s erratic in his approach, and Steve leans down for a moment, tries to make himself smaller as the guy slams into him - full speed.

He rolls into the momentum and yanks out the pool stick from the guy’s hands, throwing the other man off balance.  He kicks out, taking out the guys right knee. As the man goes down, Steve snaps the cue easily. He tosses it out of reach as the man gets up and swings wildly, limping.  Steve leans before grabbing the guy’s arm and pulling it back, just far enough that it hurt.

He looks around, and Natasha’s got one guy on the ground and in a half handstand as she pulls down the second guy, half passed out with his head between her thighs.  Clint got two pool cues and using them to beat up the fourth guy, who looks pretty bruised.

“Why did you attack us?” Steve asks the guy, pulling his arm back a little.

The guy curses for a moment before hissing out, “A guy in a mask hired us to attack you.”

“What did the mask look like?”  Steve demands. The man behind the bar has reappeared and looks to be catching up on what is going on in his establishment as he reached for a phone.  They have all of 20 minutes to probably wrap this up.

“He had a mask like in Mighty Ducks,” the guy groans.  “You know the hockey movie?”

Steve almost goes, _I_ don’t _know_ , but Natasha steps up besides him.  “Yeah that tracks.” She cocks her head to the side. “Let’s go.”

He takes in the scene, a mostly empty bar where they were supposed to meet an twitter user who had promised information that JARVIS had thought may be legitimate. The bar’s emptied out, and there is no one left.  Another dead end.

Clint is standing by the door, and there is money already on their table.  He looks antsy. When they reach him, he shrugs and says, “I don’t like jail here.  And I think I’m not allowed back in Germany, not sure.”

“You aren’t,” Natasha replies briskly.  They hustle down the street in a fast pace, and once they clear three blocks from the bar, they all slow down.  Clint pulls up his hood and hunches, and Steve slows down to a stroll, putting a hand around Clint and keeping up as commentary of what they are passing - like Clint is being forced to be a tourist with an overly eager Steve.  They both follow Natasha as she navigates them in a winding path in the middle of Berlin for a few minutes before she ducks into a tea shop.

The scent of tea leaves is overwhelming and Steve has to take a moment to hold his breath before he can adjust.  Clint breaks away and straightens. Natasha, however, walks up to the front desk and nods at the proprietor who smiles in return.  They exchange a few words in German before pointing to the Employee Only signed door.

“God, do you know someone everywhere?” Clint asks when they get into the storage room.  “Also where are we?”

Natasha pushes a rolling cart away from the far wall, grabbing a key from underneath one of the middle rungs and revealing a door against the old bricked wall.  She unlocks it, puts the key back and ushers them through it, closing the door swiftly behind them.

They end up next to a river.  With the sun setting, the water looks like it glitters.  For the first time in a long time, Steve feels the urge to grab a pencil and sketch the scene down.  He hasn’t felt the urge since before he woke up.

He takes a deep breath and shoves his hands into his pockets.

“She’s a friend,” Nat says finally.  “Or a friend of a friend. Something like that.”  She’s put on sunglasses at some point and pulled her hair back into a ponytail.  “You need to call Tony. There has been some developments.”

“We need to go pick up Sam,” Steve counters.  “We don’t know if they are after him too.”

“They aren’t, and he’s already enroute to the rendezvous point,” she returns easily.  “And you really need to hear this from Tony.” Her lips thin before adding on, “I don’t have all the details.”

Clint’s silent as he watches them talk.  When Steve looks to him, he shrugs, silently.  Steve quells the urge to roll his eyes. He pulls out his phone and sees one text from Sam _friend came by and I went out on a walk.  Catch up later, okay?_

Sam sends back a quick, _I got hungry and went around the corner._ Followed by, _You worry too much._

Steve lets out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding in and gets out, _Or maybe just enough_ , and turns to his contacts.  He dials Tony, listens to the phone ring change before there is an out of breath, “You okay?”

Steve rocks back on his heels for a moment and turns away from Nat and Clint both talking quietly.  “Yeah,” he says while looking at the water. “It was an easy bar fight. Nat was a surprise though.”  

“Yeah,” Tony sighs.  “Didn’t mean to break up your boy band, but there’s been some chatter that JARVIS has stumbled upon. You aren’t the only ones on the hunt for Barnes.  HYDRA’s mobilized and they’ve figure out you are chasing him too. I thought I had gotten a backdoor into their communication system, but apparently we rushed it.  They shut it down before we could get much more.” He pauses. “Rumlow is leading the charge, and he’s well funded and armed. HYDRA’s got a lot of resources out there.”

There are things Tony isn’t adding, skipping around the details and picking out the ones he thinks Steve wants to hear.  It’s selective and annoying, but Steve has gotten used to this when he talked to Tony. The half step between what is in his head and what comes out of his mouth that gets missed.  The careful filtering.

That’s why he likes texting JARVIS, he gets the whole picture question by question as he claws it out of the AI, unlike how he can talk to Tony.

Then, Steve thinks of Bucky running scared, trying to stay safe.  How he’s gotten better at avoiding media. He’s had to learn to be scarce.  He knows he is being hunted. Steve’s heart hurts at the images he can conjure up all too easily.

“You okay without Natasha out there working on your stuff?” Steve asks.  He knows they have been working on something. He can sometimes hear her in the background, talking in low whispers in the middle of their conversations at all hours.  Bruce sometimes too. Hulk, once or twice.

Steve’s given up trying to figure out what is going on there.  One mystery at a time.

“When has she ever followed a single order I have given?” Tony deadpans, and Steve has to stifle a laugh into a cough.  “Don’t think I didn’t catch that grin,” Tony adds.

He looks up and clocks a CCTV camera following him as he walks.  “You watching me?” he asks.

“Always,” Tony scoffs.  He pauses, and the familiar typing that Steve hadn’t even clocked in the background pauses for a moment.  

“Uh huh,” Steve says.  

“Not...not like that.”  Tony groans. “God just ignore all of that.  I’m scrubbing you guys from the video.”

“Uh _huh_ ,” Steve repeats.

“I’m keeping you off the radar, it’s like you want HYDRA to find out in the middle of Berlin with some low level 12 year old hacker who should be spending time on Minecraft,” Tony rambles through, and Steve smiles as he looks down.

This is the Tony he’s grown to understand.  The rambling one. The one who tells stories inside stories with layered meaning and pointed commentary if you can figure what the commentary is about.  The one who talks around things.

Manhattan would have gone so much better if he had known how to read Tony, he realizes now.  Tony was trying to tell him things back then. He just didn’t take the time to listen.

“Just go to Stuttgart,” Tony grounds out against his silence.  “Nat brought the jet to France. JARVIS clocked Barnes in Russia, and she’ll be your best tour guide for that part.”  He pauses. “I’m not...popular in Russia, so keep the SI talk down there. Put something over the logos of any of your tech.”

“Why?” Steve asks, curious.  

He can hear the way Tony swallows. “Wars and guns don’t make many friends.  Business makes even less. Stay in touch Capcicle.”

The line clicks before Steve can say anything else.  He pauses there, frozen, looking at the water as the sun makes it shades of maroon.  

The phone buzzes as he takes it away from his ear.   _I must apologize for sir,_ JARVIS writes.   _But he has been up for a while waiting on your call and is antsy._

Steve almost ponders it, types out, _is he okay?_ , but then sees Bucky’s face in that plane, haunted, like he knows Steve but doesn’t.  He erases the text.

 _Do you know anything else about Russia?_ He asks instead.  

 

 

Sam leans into his space one dark night in Russia and says, “Who are you texting all the time?” as quietly as he can when they are all on a jet together.  

Steve looks ahead and sees Natasha and Clint talking back and forth about some topic or another.  Her gaze is warm when she looks at Clint. Warmer than Steve’s seen it before. “JARVIS mostly. He’s Tony’s AI.  He’s doing some research for this,” he waves a hand around.

Sam leans forward and nods.  “You and Stark must be close if he’s lending you his AI.”  He looks casual but it’s been five months on this journey, and Steve’s gotten pretty good at reading Sam’s counselor mode.  The closeness and look in his eyes is always key to knowing exactly what mode Sam is in.

He doesn’t hide when he slips into trying to help. Steve is grateful for that because then he gets to decide how he wants to engage it.  Mostly he avoid the topic and moves on. Sam always lets him drop it.

This time he doesn’t.

Steve shrugs.  “I actually insulted him when I first met him.  We got on a little better as it went on, but we parted on pretty rocky terms.”  Sam keeps eyeing him, and Steve adds, “I haven’t seen him since Manhattan and whole aliens coming from a hole in the sky thing.”

“Huh,” Sam says.  His entire manner changes, like he is studying Steve.  Steve makes sure to lightly hit him when he does. “You know I don’t like your I’m-thinking-something-but-not-going-to-share shrink face.”  

Sam’s face goes rueful.  “You know I can’t help it.  I don’t get this whole dynamic you all have.  But Stark’s the weirdest. Basically he’s helping you track down your formerly dead best friend who he has never known and it’s like you never even asked for his help.  So how the hell did he know you needed help?”

Steve doesn’t have an answer for that.  He shrugs and says, “He’s Tony Stark.”

It isn’t an answer, but it is.

 

 

“Of course you needed help,” Tony replies when he asks him in the middle of a tiny village in the middle of Russia.  They are about to hike out to a rumored facility where they held Bucky once. “And it’s like you don’t know what google alerts are.”

“I don’t know what google alerts are,” Steve returns flatly.

They are getting ready to hike through the mountains will little cell coverage, no matter what Tony promises he can do.  

(‘I have a satellite pointed your way,’ Tony had said.  

‘When did you get one?’ Steve asked.  

Tony had hedged the answer before distracting Steve with some other topic. Steve lets him because sometimes he thinks he wouldn’t even understand the answer if Tony gave it to him.)

“So,” Tony pulls out a tone Steve is getting used to, and fondly calls - in his head -  teacher mode, “You know google is a thing used to search for information that basically is an index of the internet, right?”

Steve hmms, and Tony continues, “So they use site crawlers. Think of those as a Natasha for the internet to index any and all new sites.  I use alerts when those crawlers add ny websites with content around ‘avenger’ or your general names or codenames.”

“You must have gotten a lot of alerts around the Smithsonian exhibit,” Steve replies idly as he double checks his pack to make sure he has everything.  He lifts it and it feels about like the right weight. He looks around the room, and there isn’t anything sitting out besides the gear he needs to put on.  

Steve can practically hear the shrug over the phone, “Yeah, but JARVIS indexes all the google alerts and only gets the ones that need my attention to my phone.  And I already knew about the exhibit.”

“How?” he asks.

“Oh, they reached out and asked if they could borrow some stuff, or if we would donate some of the things Dad has in storage.  I’ve got a lot of your old gear. If I didn’t know better, I would think Dad was a hoarder,” Tony replies, distracted.

“Oh,” Steve says.  “Really?”

“Yeah,” Tony replies.  “Did I not tell you that?”

“We weren’t really talking before all of this,” Steve offers up, and Tony huffs.

“I swore I told you.  Maybe I told Fury and thought he would pass it to you.  Well whatever, you know now. I’ve got some of your stuff, some memorabilia, some of the Howling Commandos stuff too.  Maybe even some of Barnes’ things. Not sure. Dad’s got a whole warehouse of junk under the mansion. Next time you’re back, I’ll let you in.  You can take whatever you want.”

There is a pause where Steve thinks about what that means.  He’ll have something of home. Something that is his again. Maybe his old sketchbook from before everything, maybe the stuff from his place with Bucky.  

Maybe he’ll have a little piece of home.

That thought hits him hard, and Steve has to sit down on the bed for a moment and shake away the imperfect pictures that are his memories before the serum of him and Bucky laughing, arguing, and everything in between in that tiny Brooklyn apartment.  Him coughing too hard all of a sudden and the way Bucky’s eyes went tight.

The way Bucky doesn’t even know him now.

The way Tony is funding this trek across the world, and Steve still doesn’t know what he is getting out of this.

“Okay,” Steve says thickly.  “Thanks for all of this Tony.”  He swallows hard.

“No big deal,” Tony offers.  “It’ll make me finally clear all it up.  I should sell the old house anyway. Been meaning to throw a lot of that stuff out.  I’ll feel better if I just give it to you.”

Somehow, Steve thinks that is a deflection, but lets Tony have it.  “I think I should go,” Steve says. “We’re about to head out.”

“Stay safe,” Tony says.  There is a rustle of paper in the background and a low hissing from Tony as he mutters, _good god I am surrounded by idiots._

“You too,” Steve returns.  

“From what?” Tony asks.  “A paper cut?”

Steve laughs as he hangs up, cutting off Tony’s rant mid sentence, because he’s gotten used to it by now.

 

 

Natasha bristles the second they walk into the facility.  Steve doesn’t ask her until they have gotten past the abandoned hospital facilities that she refuses to walk into.  Just stands by an abandoned gurney, careful not to touch anything.

She is rattling apart at the edges, and Clint is in her space, nearly touching her.  She could breath wrong and be touching him. It’s like a closely choreographed dance where she moves and he follows.  The closer he is, the more she settles. Steve keeps his mouth shut and follows carefully in their wake, Sam pulling closer to him in his own unease.

“I was trained here,” she says shortly after a long time.

No one asks any questions.  Her tone is warning enough.

They reach an ancient data center that looks too familiar to what Steve remembers from Zola’s digital appearance.  Natasha calls Tony and puts him on speaker. “Okay kids, I need you to put the bright blue cord from Steve’s tablet into the nearest serial port and turn the baby on.  JARVIS will take care of it from there.”

There is a tense moment as the computer's boot up that Steve keeps looking for a face in the screens.  None appear, and he takes in a deep breath. Natasha pushes back on her heels and checks the room for something - someone.  Ghosts, Steve thinks, familiar with the hunted looks she gives the space.

Clint takes the moment to say, “By the way Stark, I take offense to the kids statement.”

“You’re an emotional child Barton, so it works,” Tony says, like he is only paying half attention.  Clint weights the statement back in forth as he thinks about it before nodding like he grudgingly agrees with Tony.

“Okay looks like we’re connected, “ Tony announces.  “I’m doing some digging, but it will take me a little bit.  Give me the time it takes you to get back to the jet before I have a lead on you, but it does look like the computer was turned on a few days back.  Trying to trace what was looked at then before I do a wider sweep.”

“Thanks Tony,” Steve vocalizes, still bitterly cold, even away from the snow.  There is something about this place that makes it feel colder. Like the winter’s before the serum when they didn’t have enough money for the gas bill.

“Stay warm Cap,” Tony says, a little more direct and like he is paying attention this time.

Steve straightens and looks around.  “Video?” he shoots back.

“No I can hear your teeth chattering.  How the frost princess isn’t is beyond me.”  Tony casually throws out. Steve thinks it’s his way of caring.  From the roll of Clint’s eyes and Sam’s chuckle, he thinks he may be the only one who thinks that way.

“Vodka,” she replies, deadpanned.  There is a pause, and in that moment, something eases in her.  She doesn’t completely unwind, but there is something in her face that reminds him of Natasha instead of just a soldier.

Tony laughs uproariously at the comment, and she even smiles a little at the sound.  It seems to warm the place up as the noise echoes around the metal building “Of course it is,” he says.  “Okay gotta go. I recommend destroying everything.”

He hangs up and Natasha puts the phone back in her pocket before eyeing the computer stack.  She goes back into the hallway and comes back a moment later with a rusted pipe and begins to smash everything until it’s in smithereens.  He, Clint and Sam silently watch as she methodically destroys any source of data.

Eventually, Clint goes, “I have some lighter fluid and matches in my pack.”

She grins, viciously.  “That will work.”

They watch as the compound burns down companionably outside when Sam asks, “How come he always answers you guys?”

“What Tony?” Clint responds.  Sam nods, and Clint stretches his arms out until they are crossed behind his head.  “He doesn’t always answer me.”

“He always answer the captain,” Natasha adds, without looking away from the blaze.

Steve can see the fire reflected  in her eyes. Between the tense lines of her face, Natasha seems younger - a little lost maybe.  She looks towards him a moment later, and Steve would almost call her vulnerable.

He blinks and she’s back looking at the fire - face blank.

“No he doesn’t,” Steve utters finally.  Sam levels him with a look, before Steve thinks about it and says, “Okay maybe he does, but that’s because of his whole privatized national security thing.”  Clint starts laughing, and Steve stops. “Okay, what?”

“He’s always liked you,” Natasha shrugs when Clint can’t stop laughing.  “He sells his motivations as something else. He’s always done that. Tony Stark doesn’t like admitting things like that.”

“Like what?” Steve asks.

“That he’s human.”

She turns back to the path.  The rest of them follow in line, but Steve can’t help but question her statement.  “How is always answering the phone when I call a human moment? He’s funding this mission. He’s probably waiting for me to call it off.”

No one answers.  The wind takes his words with it when it howls suddenly, and Steve focuses on making it back before he freezes.

 

 

from _JARVIS_

Romanov says you are coming back

 

from _Steve_

Yeah we’re in enroute right now

 

from _JARVIS_

Call sir so he can work out the logistics.  The compound does not have any food right now.

 

from _Steve_

We can do without that.  We just need a place to stay.

 

from _JARVIS_

Sir likes to do better than ‘just a place to stay’

 

from _Steve_

I don’t want to put Tony out.  He already does so much.

 

from _JARVIS_

Just call sir

 

from _Steve_

Lol ok

 

from _JARVIS_

Have you started learning internet slang?

 

from _Steve_

A little.  What does IDK and TTYL mean?

 

from _JARVIS_

I don’t know, talk to you later

 

from _Steve_

Ok I’ll just ask Natasha

 

from _JARVIS_

Before she tells you, show her these texts

 

 

They end up back in the states after the Russia lead.  New York actually, and they wait until JARVIS can tell them where Bucky has been sighted next.  They end up in the city, not the compound - at the Tower of all places.

Steve sleeps the first 8 hours straight before getting up and moving around the area, familiarizing himself with the common areas, wandering past the empty labs in the early morning until he walks into the kitchen.  Bruce Banner sits in a corner, mug in hand as he watches the sun rise.

There is something in the peace of the moment, in the look of Banner’s face that makes him say, “Still angry?”  

Bruce closes his eyes with a soft smile before turning to face him.  “Yes, but not as much as I used to be.” He stands smoothly in a way that seems effortless.  Steve envies him. Even with the serum, he feels old today. “What have you doing captain?”

“Globe trotting,” Steve replies, not sure exactly how much Bruce knows.  “Natasha, Clint, and a friend of mine Sam are here too.”

Bruce nods.  “I suspected.”  At Steve’s raised eyebrow, he adds, “Tony spends a lot of time with you guys on camera, even when he is working.  Trying to keep an eye on you or getting ahead of the things you need before you ask. He doesn’t have much spare time these days, so he’s gotten pretty good at multitasking.”

Steve feels unbearably guilty about that.  Natasha’s mentioned the amount of stress Tony is under these days.  He’s caught the news here and there on their trek. Watching coverage of press conferences.  Tony working to clean up New York and now D.C. Launching initiatives for scholarships, working on clean energy.  He’s out at galas and museum openings, smiling a bit too wide, laughing in a way Steve doesn’t imagine him when they are talking.

It feels like that Tony is different than the one he talks to for hours on end.  Steve’s not too comfortable looking at that version of Tony. Sometimes he does, ends up looking too long, trying to find something of his Tony in there.

His Tony.  Steve shakes his head.

Still, he shouldn’t be leaning so much on him or JARVIS.  Steve should be doing this the old fashioned way, on his own.  

“Ah,” he says, caught, while Bruce keeps staring at him.  “Maybe I should talk to him about that. He doesn’t -”

Bruce interrupts him.  “You know,” he starts, “I told him he wouldn’t want to keep me around here.  There was too good of a chance of a Hulk-out, and he doesn’t need the attention. You know what he told me?”  Bruce’s demeanor changes, shifting his balance until he leans in a little and gestures widely enough that the remnants of his tea nearly fly out of his cup.  “‘I’m been doing what I shouldn’t for this long ,and it hasn’t caused me any problems I care about yet.’”

Steve laughs, startled, and Bruce grins at him.  “I think he has a skewed sense of things,” Steve admits, and that is what makes Bruce start laughing.  

“True,” Bruce says, eventually when they have both settled.  “But I also don’t think he cares any more. He does what he wants and when he wants.  The only people whose opinion he cares about are the ones he lets in.” Bruce thins his lips.  “He’ll let us know if it’s too much, eventually. Or at least JARVIS will give us a heads up.”

He raises his mug as a speaker utters, “Of course Dr. Banner.”

Steve waves a little, “Hi JARVIS.  Nice to finally meet you after all the texting.”

“I fear I must disabuse you of that assumption,” JARVIS replies.  “I was never the one texting you. That was all sir.”

Steve looks down at Bruce who shrugs.  “Like I said, he was been watching out for you all a lot.”  He take his leave as Steve sits hard down in the chair Bruce has been occupying for a while.  He stays there until the sun is high in the sky, just watching.

 

 

Steve doesn’t end up seeing Tony until later that night.  He’s in the kitchen, cooking simple fried rice when Tony comes in, hand tugging at his Ironman red tie, and says, “I’ll pay you five times your salary to give me some of that.”

When Steve turns to look at him, really look at him, he can tell Tony’s tired.  There are bags under is eyes darker than some night’s skies, and he looks worn to the bone. Steve’s hands twitch.   “It looks like you don’t sleep anymore,” Steve comments.

“Wow, you know how to make a girl feel pretty,” Tony returns as he finally pulls off the tie.  “God I hate these things. But seriously is there enough for me to grab some too? If not, I need to call the chinese place and get some because now I have a craving.”

“I’m done,” Steve says and pulls out two bowls.  He evens out his proportioning before sliding the second one across to Tony with a spoon already inside.  

He watches as Tony eats the bowl basically to the bottom before he looks up and notices Steve isn’t eating.  “What’s up buttercup?”

“I can tell it’s wearing you thin.  You don’t have to spend all this time helping me.  I could do it the old school way,” Steve blurts out before he leans back a little bit abashed at his lack of tack.

He’s spent the entire day thinking about the casual way Bruce had said, _he’s been watching you_.  Steve had asked JARVIS for details and been able to get some information.

Tony had built a tracking program to put together footage of Bucky and shifted through the information with some algorithm to discover what was the most useful.  JARVIS refused to tell Steve where the original software had come from - only admitted Tony needed to tweak some things in the initial program.

JARVIS had shared, _He does have a similar program for you as well Captain_ before refusing to answer any more queries.

“The times have changed and so have the technology,” Tony replies in between mouthfuls.  “I’d have to teach you this stuff, and it’s just faster at this point between me and JARVIS.  It’s just hard sometimes, like a needle in a haystack. Because your friend is good as much as I hate to admit it.  We have had to get inventive.”

Tony swallows before adding, “I enjoyed the challenge.  I don’t get that often these days.”

“I just,” Steve starts and then drops it off, looking over Tony’s shoulders to the city outside.  “I don’t like being a burden. I didn’t like it back then, and I don’t like it now.”

“You’re not,” Tony says, quietly.  His spoon scrapes the bottom of his bowl and Steve looks back at him.  “I do what I want, how I want, when I want. If it wasn’t helping you, it would be some other side project.  And this makes me feel useful.”

“What about the clean energy and reconstruction efforts?”  Steve counters. “You’re helping thousands, millions even, with that.”  

Tony shrugs, “I’m helping nameless, faceless people in the crowd.  With this, I know who is benefiting, and I’ve realized I like putting faces to who I help.”

“You could come back out, be a superhero.”  Steve offers. He misses the air support of Thor and Ironman some days.  The problem solving they had in Manhattan. It would make a lot of things go faster, he thinks.

Tony shrugs.  “No suits or arc reactor any more.  I wouldn’t be much of one in the field.  I’m strictly sticking to the desk duty these days.”

“If you’re sure,” Steve says, careful not to push.  He remembers Natasha remarking that Tony got rid of all his suits - all but walked away from the life except for helping him.

Steve wonders about that.  Wonders why this. Why him,

He studies Tony, the way he hold himself carefully still in this moment as he stares down Steve.  Steve is still out of touch with a lot of things. Still trying to learn his way around the future.  But he thinks of how Howard used to look at him. Like he was the answer to too many questions. Like Bucky’s exasperated but fond concern.

That’s not how Tony looks at him.  

It reminds him of Peggy, in the early days.  The way she always was hiding a smile for some reason or another.

“I am,” Tony replies. “Now eat your delicious meal before it gets cold.  I’ve got to run downstairs and get some work done before I go back to my side project.”  He winks at Steve and takes off down the stairs.

Steve smiles to himself and eats his meal in silence.

 

 

A lucky break a few weeks later puts Bucky in Tunisia, so they head out in the middle of the day without saying goodbye.  Steve doesn’t like the feeling and has gotten used to everyone being in the same space, eating meals together and watching movies every night.

The morning breakfasts where everyone staggers in and makes jokes about Tony having to pay for them all to his disgruntled pre-coffee face.

So he texts Tony, _heading out.  Tonight’s casserole is in the fridge.  It better be gone by the time I come back._

Tony replies, _God you’re worse than the nagging nuns at Catholic school_.

 _You’re Catholic?_ He asks.

 _Nah, just one of the many boarding schools I got kicked out of_ ,Tony returns

 _Tell me about some of the others_ , Steve types out.

He spends most of the flight talking to Tony, and the next day, and the next.  They go from talking every once in a while to every day. Now that Tony doesn’t hide behind JARVIS, he feed Steve the leads, additional information himself.

They are in constant contact the month he and the team search Tunisia.

Steve shrugs off any comments about it.  Snaps at Clint once, and it’s not brought it up after the first week.

 

 

from _Steve_

I saw you in the news with the blonde

 

from _Tony_

Oh god, even you saw that?

 

from _Steve_

I do spend a lot of time waiting in cafes and watching, so yes, I saw that.

 

from _Tony_

Ugh, just.  Ugh.

 

from _Steve_

How did Pepper take it?

 

from _Tony_

Pepper?

 

from _Steve_

Yeah, your girlfriend?

 

from _Tony_

Oh, we’re not together any more.  

 

from _Tony_

Tho, she laughed in my face about it.

 

from _Steve_

Dating is hard these days.

 

from _Tony_

It wasn’t a date.  And I’m not looking right now.

 

from _Steve_

Why?

 

from _Tony_

I’ve got too much going on.

 

from _Steve_

You don’t have to take point on all this hunt.  You can focus on other things.

 

from _Tony_

And take away one of the few things I get to enjoy these days?  Hell no.

 

from _Steve_

If you’re sure.

 

from _Tony_

I am Captain

 

from _Steve_

It’s Steve

 

from _Tony_

Oh I’m annoyed at you.  It’s Captain.

 

from _Steve_

What did I do?

 

from _Tony_

I can’t even

 

 

They end up traipsing through  Tunisia, Egypt, and Sudan. They spend a month in Libya alone chasing down a lead that turns into a black ops spot for HYDRA.  

Steve texts Tony every day.  It becomes part of his daily habits, mentioning something going on, taking a snapshot of something he would like to draw, would think Tony would find interesting, or even some terrible technology so Tony would just bitterly complain about the state of the world.  

Sometimes, after they have left a spot, they hear about a new SI operation to bring clean water, or build a school.  Steve can’t help but think they are trying to fix two halves of a whole here.

He asks Tony about it one day in a now rare phone call.

“Is it because of us?” he asks.

“Is what because of you?” Tony sounds distant, and he had told Steve he would have to keep working through the call, but he would be too tied up to text, so talking would be easier and faster.  

“All the work you are doing here in Africa,” Steve replies.  “I can’t help but notice the trail of SI initiatives following in our wake. You know you don’t have to, but I would like to take some credit for it if it is.”

Tony groans.  “SI has eyes and years all over the world.  You can’t be the reason we do one little thing.”

“15,” Steve corrects with a laugh.  

“Or 15 you smug asshole.”

“How do you know I am being smug right now?”

“I can see your self satisfied grin right now.”

Steve laughs, “Go back to your work now Tony.  I’ll bug you later.”

“Whatever,” Tony huffs.  “I’ll make JARVIS watch your pretty face while I re-soder this terrible keyboard.  We all know he will have the most fun out of the two of us.”

“Well that is the first time I’ve been called pretty today,” Steve quips.

Tony pauses for a long moment before returning with, “You just haven’t been hanging with the right people.  Now go, leave me alone. I’ve got to get this finished.”

“Bye Tony,” Steve says.

Tony hms just before the line goes dead.

 

from _Steve_

Back before Jarvis told me it was you

 

from _Tony_

Uh oh

 

from _Steve_

Did you refer to yourself as sir on your texts?

 

from _Tony_

Uh, going into a tunnel.  Can’t talk. Losing sig-

 

from _Steve_

This is text Tony

 

from _Steve_

And even I know that trick

 

It’s three months later when they are in the middle of South Africa, about to take down another HYDRA blacksite, because they have lost track of Bucky two weeks back.  No one wants to call it just yet so they are cleaning up what they can of the remnants of HYDRA. That’s when Steve talks to Tony on the phone again.

“It’s just frustrating,” Steve says.  “He saw Sam last time and got spooked and ran.  I can’t help but think if he saw me, he may have stopped.”

“Well,” Tony responds.  “You are stopping some actual bad guys today, so I don’t think you are doing too shabby of a second job there.”

“That’s true,” Steve replies.  “I just kind of want this over thought.  I want to go back to New York and take a moment and just sit down.  Not having to be rushing, you know.”

“Yeah,” Tony wistfully utters.  “I really know what you mean.”

“How’s Pepper?” Steve asks, looking out into the dark night sky.  “Last time you said she was doing better.”

“She’s taking the CEO spot back,” Tony says.  “Not a moment too soon. I’m about to strangle the board.”

“How’s everything else?” Steve pushes.  And for a moment he doesn’t think Tony is going to respond.

“She’s good.  It’s awkward after everything.  We broke up in the middle of her treatments, and I think we both feel better about it.  Less pressure with everything.” Steve can see him sitting there in his kitchen, drink in hand, shrugging.  “I miss being part of a unit like we were, but I get it. It’s just different.”

“Any cute ladies catch your eye?” Tony asks after a moment of silence.  

Steve shrugs himself.  “None. I just want to go back home.”

“Where’s home these days soldier?” Tony queries.

Steve pauses for a moment to imagine it.  And it’s the tower, Natasha laughing at him, Clint curled up at her side, Sam rolling his eyes at the both of them.  Bruce in a chair, cup of tea in hand debating with Tony who looks over his shoulder back at Steve before waving him towards the couch.  

 _Oh_ , Steve thinks.  Oh.

“The Tower,” He says, a little numb with the realization.  “If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind,” Tony says, his voice going softer.  “I like having people around more than some would think.”

“Could you come help?” Steve asks in the quiet of the moment.  And for a second it’s too honest, too much to ask for, and he knows it.

Tony pauses before he says, “I can’t bring a suit, but I can come.”  

Steve grins, “I wanted you anyways Tony, not a suit.”  

The laughter is startled, like it was released in a puff of air.  “Okay Steve. I’ll be able to head your way in twenty four hours. I have a few things I need to finish up.  Can you hold out until then?”

“Yeah,” he says as he looks up into the night sky.  It’s deep blues and and purples splashed across the side of the wall.  “I think I can stay out of trouble that long.”

 

 

Tony has very little time he gets to spend on what he wants these days.  Sleep, surfing the web, food, and coffee are some of the things he like to spend in between the moments where he is signing papers, approving projects, firing people.  

Helping Steve and the others is almost as good a high as a good cup of coffee these days.  Something he can grab with his hands and see the results of. See the way the ring of a phone eases the lines on Steve’s face.  Hears the laughter that he can startle out of Steve sometimes from halfway across the world.

Tony’s an addict, and these small things help.

(There are days when he misses superheroing like an ache in his chest, right in the middle of where the arc reactor used to be.

Then he remembers Pepper’s glowing skin, Rhodey’s steely resolve, his breathless worry sneaking under his skin until he couldn’t think, couldn’t _breathe,_ before pushes it all down.)

Twenty hours into a problem solving jag, he’s got another tablet strewn around him, parts in various sizes and shapes across the table as he fumbles for his screwdriver.  “Where did I leave it this time?” Tony asks, throwing the pen he’s grabbed instead across the room. DUM-E whirs after it.

“If I may sir,” JARVIS says in a careful tone.  “It’s behind your ear.”

Tony reaches behind his right ear, and there it is.  He twirls the screwdriver in his fingers back in and forth in a lazy order for a while before he sighs.  “I should take break shouldn’t I?”

JARVIS pauses carefully before replying, “Yes sir.  I calculate now would be a good time to check in on the progress of Mr Rogers if you wished.”

Tony pauses for a moment before hunching over the table.  It’s not something he wants to talk about, that last phone conversation.  He shouldn’t have said yes. He needs to be here, finishing up the transition with Pepper - even though she could tun SI in her sleep at this point - and make sure the latest StarkTablet gets out on time even though the engineering branch has fucked the entire project beyond even Tony’s standards.  He’s probably going to have to start from scratch at this point. “Nah, I need to work on this.”

“Sir,” JARVIS returns, unnaturally persistent for the AI, which makes the hair on the back of Tony’s neck stand up in a way he hasn’t felt in a while.  He keeps his head down, trying to work. “What about contacting Mr. Rogers again?”

“When was the last time he checked in?” Tony asks, deceptively casual, even though JARVIS is reading his body temperature and knows his body language better than Tony knows himself.  At this point, JARVIS can probably predict how he will react to a situation with 95% accuracy.

That’s what makes this dance chill something deep in his gut.

There is a pause, and Tony looks up at the nearest camera, finally giving in because _this is unlike JARVIS_.  “Nearly five hours sir.”   

Steve could have his phone charging or be sleeping, or even winning a fire fight.  Tony unscrews a panel, cracking open the tablet’s back to get into the circuitry. Fine detailed work keeps him calm, busy, attention filled with trying not to screw this up.  He pulls out one of the microchips and brings it up to inspect the circuitry.

JARVIS doesn’t say anything, and they sit there for a moment while Tony continues working until he finally breaks and queries, “Sir?”

“Check cell activity.  I’m about twenty minutes from just leaving this until I can come back,” Tony says as he leans back down and tilts the chip so he can get better light on it.  

It only takes a few minutes before JARVIS speaks again.  “Sir,” he pauses, and Tony sits back up for this, puts everything down because he knows this is going to be bad.  Knows it down to his bones, to his scars from Afghanistan. “I cannot ping his phone.”

Tony stills, and it feels like even his thoughts have come to a halt. It takes him a few minutes to struggle to get it all together in his head. “Is it off?  We have the back up tracker on his suit.”

“I cannot ping it either sir,” JARVIS says apologetically.  “Would you like me to call Natasha Romanov?”

Tony takes a moment to take in a deep breath and collect himself before he speaks.  “Yeah,” Tony stands and discards all the gear he was wearing to keep from losing his instruments.  “Get a plane ready. Do we have a go bag for this?”

“Yes sir,” JARVIS replies.  “I would recommend a quick shower and change.  You may need to negotiate for him.”

“It’s gotta be HYDRA,” Tony bites out, bitter he didn’t see this coming.  Wasn’t watching Steve’s six as he would put it. “What I really need is a suit.”

He takes the stairs two at a time and finally gives in and gets in the elevator. The doors close faster than normal, and he grabs onto the railing as the elevator speeds through the floors to get to his level.  

“I can have one built in twenty three hours,” JARVIS calculates.  “Based off the latest Mark?”

“Yes,” Tony returns as he walks through the opened doors of his room.  “But with the modifications you and I have spitballed on over the last year.  Make what you can and that keeps it within 24 hours.”

He strips off his shirt and goes into his closet to pull off a fresh shirt and jeans to change into after he’s showered.  He needs something to wake him up, pull him out of the half feeling he’s in.

He should have left the second Steve asked.  Steve doesn’t ask for thing often and Tony know, knew in the moment just as he knows now, if he had been there on the ground or on the comm line - this would not have happened.

Whatever this even is.

His heart is in his throat, because maybe Steve is dead.  Maybe Steve is captured and being experimented on - _fuck_.  He can’t think like that.  He doesn’t know anything yet.

“Of course sir,” JARVIS utters calmly.  “I have Agent Romanov on the line.”

“Tony?” Natasha’s voice comes through, low and rough and that’s when he knows, _knows_ everything has gone to shit.  Like worst levels of shit.

“What happened,” he asks, sitting hard on the edge of his bed.

“We got jumped in South Africa,” she recounts.  “We were in a warehouse looking around, and all of a sudden HYDRA jumped out at us.  We were trying not to draw attention to ourselves after Kenya, so we were minimally armed, and they got Steve.  We just got back and were trying to regroup. I was about to call you.”

Tony curses lowly before closing his eyes and clearing his head.  “Okay I’m heading your way Nat. Text me any updates on what you know. We need to figure out where they have taken Steve.”

“Got it,” she replies tightly.  “We’ll get him back Tony.”

She’s promising things she shouldn’t.  They both know it, but it still makes Tony feel a little better.  He thinks it does the same thing for her. Thinking there is a chance this can turn out better than it is right now.  

They both know that likelihood is low though.

“I know we will,” he counters.  “I’m heading out that way in 20 minutes.”

She pauses, static crackling on the line.  “Are you sure?” And there is something there in between what she is saying and how she is reacting that Tony should acknowledge, but there isn’t enough time to study it.  Pull it apart and figure out what she isn’t saying.

“Yeah,” Tony says firmly, standing up with the clothes in a loose fist.  “I’m sure.”

He gestures are JARVIS who hangs up before heading into the shower.  “Get everything prepped J. I want to be in the air in 15.”

“Yes sir,” JARVIS replies.

 

 

Steve wakes up to a screaming pain in his right shoulder and the feeling in his head that he’s floating.  He blinks into awareness and recognizes he’s still in the middle of the warehouse in South Africa they were going to check out because there had been some sightings of Bucky around the area.

It had been just like Germany.  Right when the trail had gone cold, there had been some blurry pictures that had shown up on Instagram.  Nothing about the two users could have tied to each other, but still, Tony had been wary about handing him the information.  They had all voted on what to do.

Clint and Sam had been for it, Natasha had warily agreed, and Tony...Tony had been concerned,  Hiding it well, but concerned as they made their way to South Africa. Something about today had made Steve’s gut roll, so he had asked.  Half to get Tony back in the fight. He knows Tony had promised himself no more after seeing his family get hurt _again_ but there was a hunger in his eyes when he watched them leave.  When he was on monitors or comms talking them through something.

Tony missed it.  And Steve wanted to know what it was like to truly work side by side with him again.  

He straightens his legs and realizes he’s hanging, his feet are barely touching the ground.  As Steve stretches to figure out how he’s gotten himself like this, he realizes there is a hook dug into the meat of his shoulder.  And the hook is connected to the chain holding him upright.

“That’s not good,” he mumbles before grabbing at the chain to try and get leverage and hold himself up.  The more he comes into awareness, the more keenly aware of the pain he has become, and he wants to keep the weight off his shoulder.  Steve’s pretty sure his shoulder is separated and the initial wound is slowly growing from the weight of his body.

There is a sharp bark of laughter. “No, it’s not Captain.”  And the voice is familiar. Steve has to stare in the direction of the voice and wait for his eyes to adjust, (something he hadn’t had to do in the dark since before the serum) and for a second that terrifies him - that he’s drugged with something that could mess with the serum.

A man in a black ops outfit, similar to what the guys at SHIELD used to wear, comes into view.  He has a hockey mask on, like the man in Berlin had mentioned. HYDRA remnants, he remembers Natasha calling them when they all sat around one of Tony’s holographic displays and she flipped through some images.  He’s been following them mostly - sometimes ahead of them.

“Miss me Captain?” the man asks, muffled behind the mask.  He comes to a top right in front of Steve, just far enough that Steve can’t reach reach out to him if he wanted to.  

Instead Steve tightens his grip on the chain and lifts himself up a little more.  “I don’t even know you,” he admits.

The other man starts laughing, and reaches back to undo his mask.  When he pulls it off, Steve knows his face and goes, “ _Rumlow_ ” lowly.

“Knew you wouldn’t forget my pretty face,” Rumlow says.  His face is a ruined mess of burnt and wrinkled flesh. He looks like he has been crushed and burned and then put back together.  His right eye is electronic, glowing an eerie red. He flexes the hand not putting the mask on his belt, and it whirs a little, like Bucky’s did in DC, and Steve is starting to see that HYDRA isn’t after Bucky to bring him in.  They want to eliminate him.

“So,” Steve lifts his chin up.  “You’re Winter Soldier 2.0. You know HYDRA has never been that great at making the second one as good as the first.”  He grins. “Look at all the failed versions of me? I took down the Red Skull and he was the closest version.”

“If only you weren’t hanging out here like a skinned dead animal,” Rumlow sneers.  “You would be surprised about how long a man could stay awake when you separate their skin from the meat.  And with your healing factor? I could work on beating all of my records ten times over.”

Steve isn’t completely weak, but his shirt is soaked with blood, and he’s feeling a little woozy.  He’s too off his game for there to not be some drugs in his system. And if Rumlow is what he looks to be, then they probably have him on something that will take a while to get out of his system - if they don’t reup his dose.

“My friends will get to me,” Steve bites back, because they don’t leave a man behind.  They aren’t like that. Sam won’t let it go.

Rumlow starts laughing.  “I know you’re with Widow,” he says.  “I wasn’t dumb enough to keep you in the same place.”  He gestures to someone in the distance who Steve can’t even make out.   The wall begins to move, and Steve realizes it’s actually door, and if he looks around he can see large hummers filling the sides of the building with crates that have FRAGILE stamped on the side.  

He looks out into the night’s sky, and it’s the Sahara as far as the eye can see.  Sparse trees and desert. There is nothing out there for as far as he can see but nature.  No unnatural lights to hint at civilization. It’s not the area Steve came into, so they’ve moved buildings since.  

Steve is suddenly very aware he doesn’t have his phone on him anymore and that his gear has been stripped from him.  He’s very aware that he doesn’t know where he is, and that the other probably don’t as well.

“So it’s just you and me and some of my friends,” Rumlow grins wider.  Like someone deranged. “I think you’ll enjoy what we have planned for you.”

Steve looks out into the distance and sees something moving.  It’s blurry but he hair is familiar. He narrows his eyes, trying to see who it is and thinks he sees the lips moving in the shape of his name.

That’s the moment that gunfire begins to rain down on them.  

Rumlow ducks towards him to find cover, but Steve’s ready.   He swings his body forward, bringing his legs up so he can clench Runlow’s face between his thighs.  Rumlow reaches down to his tool belt, and Steve grips the chain tight as he lifts his lower body up. He groans as the meat hook pulls into his shoulder even more, but Rumlow’s forgotten about his tool belt with his air supply cut off and feet dangling off the ground.    His fingers are trying to pry Steve’s legs apart, so he locks his legs behind Rumlow’s head like Natasha has done to him so many times and before and squeezes. He can hear the other man’s skull creak ominously, a noise that isn’t completely the right noise, so there’s some metal in his skull, which means this just got a little harder.

He moves side to side a little bit as the gunshots ping around him, trying to use Rumlow as a shield.  Steve hears Rumlow grunt as he gets hit once or twice before going silent, fingers falling limp. He knows he has to keep Rumlow there a few more moments.  It could be another fake out, but he’s losing his grip on the chain that is still biting into his hands, even though they are slick with his own blood at this point.

With a rush, the whole line drops until he hits the ground, breathless and groaning what little he has left because the meat hook has been pushed nearly back out after the hook hit the ground.  Rumlow fell further away and gets up and starts running towards some of the crates, shouting.

Steve groans and rolls on his side.  He takes the length of the chain and pulls at it until it breaks apart, leaving him with a few links attached to the meat hook in his shoulder.  

“I wouldn’t take that out,” a voice says to his right, and Steve ducks and tenses before the person adds on, “Shit, Steve it’s just me.  Tony?”

He looks up and sees Tony there, glancing back at him, gun in hand as he shoot back at the men across the room.  “You’ve got a gun?” Steve questions, dazed and not 100% believing this is happening.

“Weapons dealer,” Tony grins before sharply ducking.  He presses a hand to his ear as they both huddle behind a crate.  “How much longer J?”

Steve doesn’t hear the answer but sees the men on the right approaching.  He slides his eyes away and sees them keep coming out of the corner of his eyes - thinking he can’t see them.  Yeah, definitely dosed with something, but he can feel it all coming back, bit by bit. He lets get the men five feet away, listening to Tony speak to the others as he reloads, before leaping up, over Tony’s head and taking them on.  

It’s only four guys, and he gets the first one down with a punch at full strength and a little bit of surprise.  He kicks back, gets guy number two in the gut, as three reaches for him. He falls forward into a handstand before pushing off and letting his feet hit the third guy in the face.  Steve ends up standing over him, grabs his gun and removes the magazine and twists the metal of the gun in hand until it’s unrecognizable.

That’s when the hook behind him gets yanked on, and Steve can’t hide the low groan.  He falls back into the motion, turns and hunches, making the guy unsteady on his feet before sweeping the man’s feet out from under him.  He goes down, hard and lets go of the chain. Steve takes what little is left and wraps it around his hands before turning towards the footsteps to his right and jabs right at the second man.  He then takes the chain and wraps it around his neck until he passes out and let’s go, watching the man slumps in front of him.

Steve looks around, doesn’t see anyone else coming before heading back to Tony.  “It’s Rumlow,” Steve tells him. Tony doesn’t look away from where he is taking his shots and quietly counting under his breath.  When he reaches 15, he ducks back down and pulls out the magazine to reload. “He’s walking around with some metal enhancements.”

“We suspected,” Tony admits.   “I wasn’t sure how much he was following you or it was an accident.  After Germany, I was suspicious.” The clanging of shots pause, and Tony shoots up.  Steve sees some more guys around the corner, and Tony mutters, “I got them.”

He spins around, lets off twelve shots hitting each of the guys in non vital places - mostly both kneecaps Steve notes.  Tony then sits down hard. “I’m out,” he says, like it’s small talk and not a problem with all the bullets still raining down around them.  “Seven clips, and I’m already out.”

“I’m missing my gear,” Steve replies.  

Tony nods.  “Yeah, Nat’s found your shield and making her way here with it.  She knows you need medical attention too.”

“The rest?” Steve asks, careful not to let his concern leak into his voice.  

Tony tilts his head like he can read between the lines, and he probably can.  They’ve been a year talking about anything and everything - especially post missions.  He knows exactly how much Steve worries about the rest of the team. “Fine. We all split up.  Sam’s taking care of the snipers and Nat and Clint are working their way to our position right now.”

“Systematically cleaning house?” Steve questions as the gunfire pauses.  He peeks around the corner and sees no movement. He looks back to Tony and knows they both don’t feel good about this.

Tony ducks his head to the side before grinning.  “Okay,” he tells Steve, barely above a whisper. “Stay here and just trust me.”

Then he rolls out from behind the box, arms held up, no gun on him.  “Hey so, I give up you guys,” he calls. “How about we negotiate? I’ve got a shit ton of money to pay for my way out of here.”

Steve stays where he is, fingers clutching the edge of the box as he watches.  Tony strolls across the open area, moonlight catching his skin and making him glow.  He stops in the middle of the space. Rumlow leans against a hummer, gun held loosely in his hand, but still trained on Tony.  “You’re not going to negotiate for the dear captain you came to rescue?”

“Ha,” Tony laughs.  “You act like I didn’t come here for the vibranium in his shield and a sample of blood.  Thanks for making that easy guys. I hadn’t thought of a meat hook before.”

“Like we’re going to believe that,” Rumlow returns.  “They have been flying around in Stark planes using Stark tech.  You’ve been the man behind the machine since day one.”

“I worked on things for SHIELD in order to get my hands into their nice little system,” Tony responds, rolling his eyes.  “You think the pretty non branded tech and planes aren’t something left over for SHIELD? Of course Fury gave Black Widow the keys to the kingdom and she gave them to Rogers.  Been attached at the hip New York. Anyways, you were too low of a rank to be in on the their little pow wows. But then again, most of us were.”

Tony’s eyes glitter, and Steve has to remind himself of Tony’s words, _trust me_ and know he’s not giving them up. Rumlow stares Tony up and down for a moment before going, “You know, I just don’t trust you.”

Someone on the right side of the warehouse takes that a cue and levels a rocket launcher at Tony.  Steve scrambles upright, trying to get to Tony, get him out of the blast radius as the guy launches it.  “Tony!” he screams.

Bullets ring out, and he gets shot once in the stomach as he keeps pushing forward.  Tony looks back at him for a moment, and yells, “Get back!” even as a rocket comes right at him.  

It’s like watching a horror movie in slow motion - time frozen as Steve tries to get there in time noise going out, until he realizes he can’t hear anything over the roar of an engine.  He watches as red and gold encompasses Tony, planting in the ground like shield. The rocket hits it point blank, erupting into a bright fire that sends Steve crashing back into the crate.  

He has to blink away the white after images until he can focus on the red and gold circle of metal around Tony.  It has to be some last ditch effort for security, because Tony has told him countless times he doesn’t have a suit.  Not any more.

The circle creaks ominously, before falling down and revealing Ironman in his familiar red and gold, facing him.  The eyes of the mask glow the familiar arc reactor white blue. And even though Steve’s seen Tony in no sleeve shirts and no glow through it, there is still some sort of arc reactor in the chest of the suit.  

Tony nods at him before lifting off and turning to the HYDRA agents remaining.  “Okay, now I’m just pissed,” he vocalizes before shooting up the hummers. Steve watches as they flip, trapping men underneath them.

The man on right with the rocket launcher reloads and shoots at Tony again, who stay still and takes it before quipping, “Now you’ve scratched the paint.  Guess you’ve bought it now” before flying towards the guy and shooting picking it out of his hands, while shooting sedatives into everyone in the vicinity.

Tony tosses the rocket launcher in the air, shoots it with a gauntlet before zeroing on on Rumlow again.  “So, ready to surrender yet?”

“Nah,” Rumlow replies before pulling out some of the energy weapons similar to what Steve had seen on the helicarrier during the Battle of Manhattan.  He lets it off, and it seems to actually take Tony down a little bit, pushing him back a few steps. Steve stands up and starts running towards Rumlow, who clocks him and goes, “Nuh uh uh” before shooting him.

He flies back again, hitting one of the hummers and feels the impact down to his bones.  He tries to roll over and move, but everything hurts. Still, he sees Rumlow throw a glowing sort of grenade that attaches itself to Tony before going off in a blinding light.

He feels the moment Tony hits the ground.  It rattles his teeth a little bit, and Steve pushes himself up again and takes in the scene as the dirt resettles.  

Tony is lying on the ground, lights still on, but not exactly moving just yet.  Rumlow is nowhere to be seen, but he hears a distant engine.

“You okay?” he hears, but he keeps his eyes out on the horizon looking for any more agents about to come in an attack them.

“Yeah, you?” Steve asks, barely able to breathe around the pain in his ribs.  They’re probably broken.

“Yeah,” Tony replies.

Steve looks over to Tony catches the glowing eyes of the suit.  “Let’s not do that again.”

Tony raises an armor clad thumb up before flipping his helmeted head back against the concrete floor of the warehouse and groans, Iincoming.”

Natasha and Clint burst through the door, survey the room before straightening and heading towards them.  “The perimeter’s secure,” Natasha notifies as she comes over and lays gentle hands on Steve.

Tony groans and says, “Please tell me you at least made the Nazi bastards hurt as much as I do right now” to Clint who is helping him upright.  

“Yeah,” Clint grins, bloodthirsty.  “This is a lighter suit than usual.”

“Rush job,” Tony replies.  He looks to where Natasha and Steve are standing, and Steve knows the moment he sees how much he is leaning on Natasha.  “Let’s get bird brain and get out of here. Steve needs some medical attention. My plane is nearby.”

Clint nods and leads the way out of the building.  Tony takes the rear, and Steve can feel his careful gaze behind him the entire way out.

 

 

  
They end up stumbling towards Tony’s plane a half a mile away.  Steve’s healing but with a bullet wound in the gut, the meat hook still in his shoulder, and what is probably a concussion - he’s having a hard time walking in a straight line.  Tony is leading the way, still in the suit. He’s being short, succulent in a way Steve isn’t used to.

Steve wants to tease Tony, but he also thinks he may puke if he opens his mouth.  Instead he grinds his teeth together and tries to walk with Natasha and Sam on either side, guiding him and helping him stay on his feet.

It’s Clint who goes, “Uh Stark, are the lights supposed to be on in the plane?”

They all pause and watch as a lone shadow is cast across the middle of the plane.  For a few long minutes, they watch as the shadow doesn’t move and no others join it.  “JARVIS says it’s one person,” Tony vocalizes to the rest of them. “They disarmed the alarms and engine.  I can take them.”

Everyone sits back as Tony goes up to the side door on the plane near the cockpit, touches the side and it opens for him.  “Goddamn biometrics,” Clint curses. “Of course Stark has that in his planes.”

“You just hate technology,” Sam quips, picking up where Steve usually would make a joke. Instead he is almost too tense to even breathe.  The pain is radiating more in his shoulder, and everything feels a little blurry.

“I just hate Stark's,” Clint bites back.  “Even my bow has some biometrics. It’s a bow.  It’s doesn’t need all the extra shit.”

“You love that bow,” Natasha states firmly.  “Now shut up, I need to figure out if I need to go in after Stark.”

Steve  watches as the familiar glow of the gauntlets light up the main cabin for a long tense moment.  Clint has his bow in hand, and a few bloodstained tips of arrows are right next to his hands. Sam is ready to take off the moment he is needed, and Natasha is coiled like a spring.

Suddenly the main cabin door opens and the steps fold down.  All four look at each other before Clint takes off, Natasha at his back.  Sam helps him make it to the stairs as fast as they can.

They stumble into the cabin and almost hit Natasha and Clint’s backs.  Steve straightens and bites back a groan before looking around them. Tony is still in his armor, but doesn’t have the gauntlets up.  Across from him is Bucky, sitting in a chair. Hair lank and dirty, and eyes dark. Rumlow is out cold, tied up in the chair beside him.  

“Hey punk,” Bucky says, breaking the odd silence.  

Steve zeroes in on him.  “Bucky?” he asks, hopeful.

Bucky shrugs.  His clothes are a little big on his frame, but he’s careful not to move the metal hand.  “Mostly. Still missing some stuff in here.”

“You know him?” Tony’s suit vocalizes in the carefully modularized tone.

Steve opens his mouth to answer, but Bucky is the one who beats him to the punch.  “His momma’s name was Sarah. He put newspaper in his shoes. And the kid got the flu every year before he got muscled up.”

Steve unwinds and begins to slowly grin.  “How did you meet me?”

“Caught you getting beat up in some back alley.  I decided to lend a hand,” Bucky says. A ghost of a smile graces his face.  “Wasn’t the last time.”

“It’s him,” Steve says to the others.  “It’s him.”

“You not going to lose your mind and try and take us all out?” Clint adds.  “Because I would like to fly this plane, find a bed, and pass out for a while.  Getting in another fight with you is something not in that plan.”

“I’m good,” Bucky replies.  “But Stevie looks like he needs some medical attention.”

Steve laughs, even though it hurts because he hasn’t heard someone call him Stevie in that tone in years.  Never thought he would hear it again. “Just got in another fight. Of course you show up after.”

Bucky stands up and heads to him.  Everyone pulls a few steps away but watches them closely.  Bucky uses his flesh hand to grab the arm less bruised up. “Where is the medical gear in this place?”

Bucky and Natasha lead him to a seat and busy themselves with working with cleaning his wounds and debating whether they should sew him up.  Sam steps in and gives some feedback about how quickly he heals after the DC mess.

It’s not until they have been in the air for an hour that Steve’s head clears up to realized Tony isn’t there.  He goes to stand up, but a look from Natasha keeps him in his seat.

Instead he basks in the knowledge that Bucky is by his side, listening to Sam tell stories, nodding every once in a while.  Adding details or stories from his time growing up with Steve.

He’ll find Tony later.  

 

 

_Two weeks ago..._

from _Steve_

Where are you?

 

_Nine days ago..._

from _Steve_

Been looking for you.  Where are you?

 

_Five days ago..._

from _Steve_

Tony.  Hey. Can we talk?

 

_Two days ago..._

from _Steve_

Tony.

   

  
“I can’t thank you enough,” Steve tells Tony, days later in the middle of one of the side closests of gear that Tony keeps filled with for the team.  

Tony’s standing around in jeans and a band shirt, hair wildly pointed in every which direction after he has run his hands through it while narrating some things he needs to restock on to JARVIS.  Steve has been standing in the doorway, waiting for Tony to acknowledge for a while, but Tony has been steadily ignoring him since they got back from South Africa, Bucky in tow.

Steve doesn’t like the feeling, has gotten use to their easy communication but decided to give Tony some time.  It’s been about three weeks now, and he’s about done with time and space and decided to tackle it all head on.

He tracked down to this room by systematically asking JARVIS questions until he could figure out what exactly the AI wasn’t tell him.  Sometimes he forgets how similar Tony and JARVIS are and has to remember that Tony coded him from scratch, so of course they are similar in the ways that aren’t obvious because Tony wouldn’t see that and make it different.

“You didn’t have to come and rescue me or help with Bucky,” he continues earnestly.  “It really means a lot.”

He stands there and watches Tony watch him for a moment before the other man turns back to the rack of gear.  There’s a small window on the right side, and Tony keeps moving towards that, further from Steve. He doesn’t know what that means, but Steve doesn’t think it means anything good.

“You know I don’t just do this sort of stuff for anyone,” Tony says, finally.  Steve watches him keep looking out the window, careful to not look back at Steve.  But he can tell Tony is watching him in the glass, so he keeps his face carefully neutral and stays still.  

“I really don’t actually,” Steve responds.  “We fought a battle, you took a nuke through a wormhole and almost died, ate food with us, gave us everything we all needed to start our next phases, and then you picked up the bill after SHIELD left me hanging.  You build us levels in your tower, you built and entire compound for the Avengers to train at. All I’ve ever seen from you is being generous and a little over the top.”

Tony looks back at him and smiles ruefully, almost like one of Bucky’s smiles these days.  Like it hurts for some reason, and something in Steve aches at the knowledge that smile is directed at him.  “You caught me in a good time in my life. Five years earlier and you would have hated me.”

Steve shakes his head.  “I really don’t think so Tony.”

Tony laughs, helplessly a little.  But it’s realer, nicer. His body language is loose, not tight and shut down.  It reminds him of Clint when he is trying to make Steve see something his way. What Tony forgets is Steve is stubborn. “But what I meant is I don’t spend a year housing, paying and helping on an adventure like yours if I don’t like you.”

There’s a way he says the words that make Steve pause.  The way his hand gestures and then immediately gets shoved into his pockets like he is scared too come to close because what he is saying could make Steve react poorly.

 _Oh_ , Steve thinks as it all slides into place.

Steve’s heart stops a little bit.  “Like me?”

Tony pauses, like he didn’t expect that, before getting flustered.  “Shit, I didn’t mean it like that. I know you’re old fashioned and love your pin up girls, it’s nothing like that -”

Steve’s crossed the room and pulled Tony close, kissing him before Tony can keep talking, because the words coming out of Tony’s mouth are so _wrong_ , and he wants to correct it.  But they can’t read each other right now, so he has to do _something_.  They need to talk about it, but all he can think about is how Tony’s looked at him, soft and sweet over the dinners he’s made.  The early morning cups of coffees where Tony has muttered things under his breath. And Steve gets it now - gets what Tony has been talking around and not saying.  

Tony melts into the kiss, before stiffening and pulling back.  “Woah, wait didn’t you _just_ have your flirt on with your neighbor?”

“What?” Steve asks, because he hasn’t had a neighbor that wasn’t Sam, Clint or Natasha in months.  And he’s pretty sure he hasn’t been flirting with any of them.

“Your neighbor,” Tony repeats.  “The one in DC.”

It takes a moment before it clicks. Sharon, the blonde nurse from next door who had later turned out to be Agent 13.  Natasha had filled him in about her before the split up in DC. Peggy’s niece who had been raised by Peggy in the halls of SHIELD.  She had gone CIA after everything.

Her mission had been to make sure he could handle the load of working and being a normal person outside the Triskelion.  She had had her own missions from time to time, but her primary mission had been him.

(He had been mad at Natasha for not telling him until she had said, “I wanted to get you dating.  That was one of the ways to trigger the end of her mission.”

“Oh,” he had said.  

“Oh,” she had repeated before rolling her eyes and heading back to the front of the plane.  Sam hadn’t had the decency to move. Just sat there and laughed at him to his face before Steve shoved him and moved to the back bunk to avoid everyone.)

“You mean the secret SHIELD agent Fury put on me to babysit me?” Steve replies, incredulous.  “The one I haven’t seen in over a year?”

Tony nods earnestly, but his eyes give him away.  They are carefully blank. “Yeah, that one!”

Steve has to take a moment to think, _I really do like this dumb genius_ before responding with, “Tony, no.  I don’t... _no_.”

He takes in a deep breath before adding, “I’ve always liked guys and gals.  It’s nothing new. But if you don’t want to do it Tony, just say it. Don’t talk around it.”

He looks down, because maybe he was wrong.  Maybe he doesn’t understand Tony, and he was just being a friend.  Or helping him take a terrible assassins off the streets. Anything but doing it for something other than just making the world better.  And he just crossed a big line of that is the real deal.

“Do what exactly?” Tony asks, tentatively.  Steve looks up and sees he has pulled close to Steve, but just barely out of arms reach.  “You said ‘do it’, what does that _mean_?  Are we talking a one night stand?”

Steve shrugs.  “I was thinking we would start dating first.”

Tony’s face clears and he starts smiling.  “I’d be okay with that.” He reaches out and laces his fingers with Steve’s for a moment, looking down at them before looking back up.  “How about we have our first date right now?”

Steve grins.  “I could be persuaded.”

Tony steps in real close and kisses him on the corner of his mouth before pulling back.  “How do you feel about burgers.”

“I love them,” Steve replies, squeezing Tony’s hand.

“Good,” Tony nods, pulling out his phone with his free hand.  “I know just the place. Ready to go?”

“Always.”  And Steve finds he means it more than he thought, but pushes the thought away and follows Tony out of the room.

Natasha catches Tony’s eye as they leave, and he flicks her off without looking back, trying to hurry past her.  Steve watches as she breaks into silent laughter. Clint, clearly disgruntled, goes fishing for his wallet before handing some money to Sam.  Bruce raises a mug of tea from his place in the corner before turning back to the movie he was watching. Bucky sits in a corner chair and cracks a smile when he sees Steve looking his way.  

 _Finally_ , he mouths.  Steve rolls his eyes and turns back to the path Tony is leading him to the elevator.  

 _Finally_ , he thinks and didn’t know he was waiting this too.

The way Tony looks over at him before squeezing his fingers again, he thinks Tony was waiting for it too.  

**Author's Note:**

> RBB was a struggle for me, and MusicalLuna didn't kill me. Everyone thank her for all her kind words and encouragement and lovely images she provided for a prompt. I can't even begin to say how grateful I am for her.


End file.
